


big jet plane

by hazelpeach



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: ADHD, Angst, Autistic Spencer Reid, Canon Autistic Character, Cross-Posted on Wattpad, Dead Parents, Dom oc, Eventual Smut, F/M, Falling In Love, Fanfiction, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Humor, Idiots in Love, Implied Childhood Sexual Abuse, Kidnapping, LGBTQ Character, LGBTQ Female Character, Love Confessions, Love at First Sight, Mental Health Issues, Murder, OC is Mentally Ill, OCD, Oblivious, Oblivious Spencer Reid, PTSD, Past Sexual Abuse, Pining, Protective Siblings, Serial Killers, Sexual Tension, Sibling Bonding, Slow Burn, Sub Spencer Reid, Tenderness, Trauma, badassery, bisexual oc, mentions of sexual abuse, sort of a modern au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:02:08
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,922
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22763674
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hazelpeach/pseuds/hazelpeach
Summary: august riley was known to be a semi-awkward woman. constantly fumbling, being bothered by both loud sounds and complete silence. w woman who only finds solace in her art. after her parents become victims of a serial murderer, she finds herself in awe of an FBI agent on the case.
Relationships: Spencer Reid/Original Female Character(s)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 44





	1. prologue

"I remember it being dark."

August's voice is calm yet slightly wavered, showing signs of weakness in her. She can feel the cold of the metal seat through her layer of clothes. It's not uncomfortable, but it's not exactly pleasant either. In front of her sits a man who has introduced himself as Agent Derek Morgan.

"Were the lights off? Was it night?" Derek asks her, body shifting towards her as best he can on the other side of the table. As he does this, the metal clangs against the watch he's wearing, causing her to flinch, but she regains herself after a moment.

"Both." She murmurs. "I couldn't see his face. He wasn't wearing- he wasn't wearing a mask... so I know he intended to..." There's long, painful pauses in between her sentences as she tries to fight back the twinging in her chest. "So I know he intended to kill me."

"Why do you say that?"

"If he had worn a mask it would mean he'd leave witnesses who could identify him without it." Rambling, fingers hands go to fiddle with the tips of her sweater. "I wish he killed me."

The silence that flows into the room is too overwhelming. August's eyes shut as her hands go to grab at her hair, massaging her temples.

"Are you okay? Do you need some water?"

"I'm okay."

"We can stop if you need to, August."

"No, no. It's okay. We can keep going. I'm okay."

Derek stares at her hands once they drop down on the table. They bump and fidget against each other restlessly, showing that she's nervous. He ponders this for a moment before speaking.

"'Scuse me for a minute."

He stands, exiting the room. She's left alone for longer than she'd like before the door opens again.

A different man enters. He's shorter and less muscular, but rather lanky. He wears his hair long and messy, clearly not caring about his appearance, and he's dressed in a vest over a button-up and a tie. Rather formal.

As he nervously sits down in front of her, a small, uncertain smile flashes on his face. One that brings both of his lips into his mouth, almost fake. The sight of him spikes her interest, staring at the young man in front of her. In fact, he's almost too young to be an FBI agent.

"Uh, hello. My name is Dr. Spencer Reid." His voice is nervous. The way he introduces himself is almost as if he's questioning his own name. His fidgets are almost in tune with hers as he picks at the skin around his fingernails.

"I'm here to ask you a few questions."

The questioning begins once again. He asks the same questions Derek had, but somehow gets her to loosen up more. Seeing someone around her age group and with similar quirks calms her, and Derek knew that would happen. Spencer had questioned his judgement at first, but as he sees her tense demeanor soften he comes to the conclusion that he might've been right. Which was rare.

"Where was your brother during all of this?"

_A muffled scream is heard. August wakes. There's banging in her parent's room._

"Uh... well, we were... we were staying there for Thanksgiving. He was downstairs eating leftovers."

The movements of her feet are barely heard as she tiptoes through the hallway, closing in on the door across the hall. She stares, almost blankly, as no more sound comes through it.

"I wasn't even thinking about him. He wasn't on my mind at all."

_Something cold hits August in her chest. It's a feeling, not an object. Fear begins to bubble within her. She moves forward towards the room, slowly opening the door as not to alert anyone, and enters the room. Turning the corner of the small entryway, she spots him. A man, dressed in black casual wear. He's caucasian, tall, but not particularly buff. His hair is short and he's somewhere in his sixties. He notices August, and the realization terrifies her. She watches as he lunges forward, going to attack her, but she grabs a pencil from the desk next to her and uses it to stab him in the chest. He cries out in pain, going to hit her again, but is confronted by the feeling of her knee hitting him right in the crotch. He collapses to the floor, and she runs for it._

"I ran downstairs to see my brother panicked. He was in the kitchen, scared out of his damn mind, and I told him we had to go. We left the house and I didn't know what happened to my parents until the next day when we came back."

"And that's when you found them?"

_The sight is horrifying. Their parents, murdered and mangled, lying on their bathroom floor. There's cuts near the starts of each of their limbs, like Frankenstein. Their hair had been cut and taken. August's brother, Justin, grasps onto her as she sobs, reaching for his phone to dial the police. The fear within their hearts is worse than the fear they had experienced the night before._

"Justin found them first. He screamed when he saw them which is why I came to see what was..."

She stops. Tears come down her face without her even realizing it, but when she does, she stops. She can't continue any longer.

"I'm sorry, August. We can stop."

"Thank you, Doctor."

"Spencer is fine."

She smiles at this. He returns it. It's more genuine this time.


	2. pleased to meet you

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> August's follow up visit reveals more than she thought it would.

**NEW YORK, NEW YORK.**

_APARTMENT 6A, AUGUST'S PLACE._

After the incident, Justin takes it upon himself to stay with August until they're both okay. As she can't afford a bigger apartment, he sleeps on the couch. It's rough, but it'll do him good for now. As long as he stays with her, they both can find some sort of peace. August is too scared to spend the night alone, and Justin refuses to leave her on her own. It's an even deal.

In the living room, August’s calloused hands are rough against her own paper, scribbling lines and curves onto her already halfway finished sketch. It’s cartoonish and pop arty, but realism shows itself. She sighs, staring dead into the eyes of her own drawing, unsatisfied.  _ It’s not good enough _ is the only thing that circles her brain, something about it not sitting right in her stomach.  _ It’s not good enough _ . The drawing stares back at her with a gaze she doesn't want. There's too much emotion in it. She needs less.

Footsteps echo through the hall, drawing her gaze upward. Her eyes meet a familiar pair's, staring face-to-face with Dr. Spencer Reid. Behind him is Agent Morgan, almost towering over him, despite the distance between them. "Who let you in?" Is the first thing she says. She finds herself cringing at her own bluntness. If they had been offended by it, they didn't let it show. _But they've talked to real serial killers - a simple rude remark can't strike a nerve._ She tries to calm her own nerves. "Your brother. Uh, do you mind if we sit down?" Reid asks.

She shakes her head. The two men sit themselves down on the seats across from her. 

"We came here for a follow up." Morgan tells her. "We found evidence that points to a suspect, but we need more of your story first."

August swallows thickly. She's not ready, but it's mandatory. She closes the sketchbook and sets it on the table beside her. Reid thanks her for her contribution, an almost pained look in his eyes, showing her that he's apologetic for making her go through it again. It's appreciated.

"Okay, uh... what is it you need?"

"Just what happened after we left off."

August closes her eyes, trying best to remember something, _anything else_ , but nothing hits her. "I'm sorry I can't... I can't be more help. I don't remember that much it's like-" She chokes on her own words. Tears begin to well up in her eyes, but she pushes them back. She can't stand crying in front of strangers, let alone detectives on her own case. "It's like my brain won't let me remember anything else." 

"That's completely normal, August." Morgan tells her. "You can take as much time as you need. We just need you to tell us a few things, and then we'll get out of your hair. Can you do that for us?" 

August nods weakly. Reid and Morgan glance at each other for a moment, as if saying something to each other. They both turn back to her.

She chokes again. This time, she has to cover her mouth with her hand to keep herself from crying. Reid attempts to soothe her with various comments of "It's okay, take your time" and "Don't push yourself". It doesn't help _much_ , but he talks to her enough to let her know that she's fine right now. That no ones there. No ones there to hurt her. _There's something soothing about him._

_While Justin calls the police, a small crash from downstairs makes itself known to August. She whips her head around, patting Justin, but all he does is nod to her, too stunned to move. Shakily, August moves forward, catching sight of where the man was, but notices he had ran off. He's not there anymore._

"He ran away. After- After I hit him, he ran away." 

"Do you know where he went?"

"Downstairs."

_Almost tumbling, she searches around for a weapon, but she doesn't spot anything useful. Almost hesitantly she grabs a vase from off of the side table. She walks down the stairs, clutching the vase, listening closely to any sign of the man she saw before._

"I went down to look for him. And I saw him... leaving. He left. And then I was alone."

Morgan reaches into his bag, pulling out a photo. "Do you recognize this man?"

August stares at the photo. It's a man. Caucasian. Sixties. It's everything she described her parent's murderer to be. But it's not him. No, she'd recognize him in a heartbeat. This isn't the man who killed them. 

"Yeah. But that's not him."

Morgan honestly looks surprised at her answer. As if he _knew_ or _thought_ she'd say it was him. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes." Her reply is immediate. She took no time to leave any space or thoughts dangling. "I'd recognize him. That's not him."

"Do you know him at all?"

She swallows thickly. Her leg bounces rapidly up and down. She begins to rub the back of her neck, getting nervous all the sudden. The two notice this. "Are you alright?" Reid asks. She nods. "Just.. nerved up. It happens. It's uh, just... just me, I guess." Rambling, August stops herself. "Uh... he's my dad."

This stumps both of them. "I thought..."

"No, uh. He was... he was my step-father." August almost laughs as a defense, but she shuts her own wall down. "My dad, uh... that guy, died actually... two years back. So I know it wasn't him. My mom left him when I was a kid, he wasn't good news."

They nod. "There goes that theory." Reid mumbles, watching as Morgan puts the photo away. "Thank you for your time, August." She smiles with no genuine happiness in it. It's plain and unsaturated. 

"I like your drawing, by the way." He tells her as Morgan leaves the room. "I've never had someone draw me before."


End file.
